Evening
The evening with the kids was pretty typical. I donned my imaginary Super Auntie cape and put diapers on all three
toddlers (Emma, Gabriel, Nancy), read them a story, and watched each of them
pass out within 25 minutes – no small feat. Especially considering I haven’t changed a diaper in almost
10 years.
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| Gabriel in time out |
Although Nancy is a sweetie-pie, she’s also a crier, and
(understandably) very clingy, so doesn’t go down easy. And then the twins! Gabriel and Emma (Ee-mah), short for Emmanuel, are fraternal twins, born on
February 6, 2005. They came from a
conflict region, and both parents are still alive but HIV positive and unable
to care for their babies. Gabriel,
not quite living up to his Archangel namesake, has been fittingly nicknamed
“The Destroyer.” I walked into the
office the other day to find him dangling from the third shelf up, one arm
reaching higher, the contents of every shelf below him still settling from
their crash landings. The minute I
set him on the floor he vanished, leaving me with nothing but the sound of his
giggling in my ear. When I finally
tracked him down, I carried him, shrieking his insistence that it was Emma who had annihilated the office, and put him in
time-out. He sat in the corner of
the compound on his little stool with his back to us, wailing and wiping the
snot from his nose with the back of his little hand. God help me, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
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| Emma wearing my shoes on the 4 Square court |
If Gabriel was born with a miniature Devil on his shoulder,
Emma was born with the Angel counterpart on his. Nicknamed “The Professor,” he’s happiest sitting on your lap
at the desk in the office with a pen in his hand. The most impish thing he’ll do is try on your hat or your
shoes when you’re not looking. He
fell today while playing with one of the older kids, and wiped away his own
tears like a big boy when I finished putting Neosporin and the Superman Band-aid
on his lightly scratched knee.
Both boys are at a healthy weight now, and thankfully
Gabriel is completely healthy. It
breaks my heart that Emma isn’t as lucky.
I wore gloves when I put the Band-aid on Emma. We’re required to wear them regardless
of how small the cut. We are
actually required to wear them whether the child is sick or not so that there’s
no difference in treatment. But
it’s unavoidable. Every kid with a
boo boo gets hugs, a pep talk before the antibiotic spray, and a hand to
squeeze tight while it stings. And
I gently blow them all dry. But my
lips float just a touch further away when soothing sweet Emma. I don’t know why. I know the sick can’t jump from his
little scrape to fly through four inches of air and into my mouth to infect
me. I kissed his temple twice
before letting him go. He doesn’t
know that one was for him, and one was for my guilt.
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| The Twins (Emma on left, Gabriel on right) |
After putting the kids to bed, I joined Sonjelle on the
porch and listened to Justice read bible stories until Sister Francesca came
back from her afternoon out and about.
More often than not, if Sonjelle or I are home (which we always are,
unless Sonjelle is running children to the hospital for checkups or malaria
medicine) the matrons leave once the meals are cooked to go to the market or do
whatever it is they do. You can
count on Sister Francesca to be back by bedtime, but with Sister Matilda it’s a
crapshoot.
I know I came here to volunteer, but I didn’t realize it
would be quite so intense. Always
on. Always at the home. Where the heck does Edem go? And the matrons? Aren’t they getting paid to be
here? How the hell has Sonjelle
survived essentially by herself for five
weeks without going mad?
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